


Strawberries and Cigarettes

by subtlehysteria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, New Year's Kiss, Pining Keith (Voltron), Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: Keith and Lance share New Year's Resolutions





	Strawberries and Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thoughtsinanutshell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thoughtsinanutshell/gifts).



> As promised: a Keith/Lance New Year's Eve fic! I hope you like it <3

“Hey, Mullet.”

Keith releases the smoke from his lungs, allowing it to pool out of his mouth and into the frigid night air.

“Hey, Lance.”

Lance – tall, lithe, tanned Lance – leans up against the brick wall alongside Keith, shivering but still with that cocky grin in place.

“You’re still smoking that shit?”

Keith shrugs, takes another pull and releases it slowly. “I’ll quit next year.”

“That on your list?”

Keith cocks a brow. “List?”

Lance turns his baby blues on Keith, holding his gaze as he says, “Ya know. Your to-do list for the new year.”

“I thought you’re supposed to do resolutions.”

“Nah, everyone breaks those by January.” He leans in, plucking the cigarette from Keith’s fingers and flinging it into the snow at their feet. He steps on the cherry for good measure. “Just like you’ll pick up your little habit again come Feb.”

Keith chuckles wryly, taking out his pack from his back pocket along with his matchbook. It's old-fashioned, but he’s always preferred matches to lighters. Maybe for the aesthetic. Maybe to be closer to his Pop, to watch the flame curl down its lifeline made of wood before snuffing out at the tips of his fingers.

He pops his chosen cigarette between his lips, strikes the match, and lights up. He breathes in an unhealthy dose of smoke before blowing it out of his nostrils, just because he knows it’ll annoy Lance.

“What about you then?” Keith asks.

“What about me?”

“What’s on your list that you’ll see it through?”

Lance hums, tapping his chin in thought. “Why should I tell you?”

Keith gives a one-shoulder shrug, tucking his matchbook and pack back home in his pocket. “Give a guy some hope?”

Lance grins. “Well in that case.” He pushes off the wall, kicking a pile of snow to create a storm of icy raindrops. “I wanna paint a picture.”

“You can’t even draw a decent stick-figure,” Keith says, trying to hide his smile around his cigarette. By the look Lance is giving him, it isn’t working.

“Exactly!” Lance says. He throws his arms about, blue kitten mittens out for all the world to see. “I can take some time out when I’m bored to paint something. It’ll probably be shit, but that’s part of the fun.”

“I thought these resolutions –”

“Not a resolution.”

“Whatever.” Keith takes another drag, releases the smoke away from Lance’s face. (He knows Lance hates the smell. Keith hates it too.) “I thought this kind of stuff is supposed to make you a better version of yourself or something.”

Lance shakes his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s where you’re getting it wrong.”

Keith’s eyebrows raise high, disappearing behind his overgrown bangs. “Oh. Then enlighten me.”

“That’s why most resolutions don’t work. People focus too much on changing themselves and not enough on making themselves happy.”

“And painting a crappy picture will make you happy?”

“Heck yeah!” Lance exclaims, grinning giddily. It makes Keith wonder how many flutes of champagne Lance has downed. Although it being Lance, such behaviour constitutes as Lance-like anyhow. “I’ll sit down, splash some colours on a canvas to some good tunes and I’ll have a fancy-schmancy piece of art to show for all my effort. Even if you can’t tell what the picture’s of.”

Keith bites his bottom lip, rolling his cigarette between his fingers to give them something to do. There’s this curl of brown hair sticking out of Lance’s beanie. It’s driving him nuts. He wants to reach over and fix it. But that’s not a them-thing. That’s a Lance-and-Hunk thing, or a Lance-and-Allura thing.

Keith’s never been one for PDA, platonic or no. Hugs are okay, once he’s taken the time to get to know, to feel comfortable around, the person. Lance is one of those people. But their hugs are more like one of those frat-bro holds, clasping of the hands and manly pats on the backs. Honestly? Keith hates it. Hates that he can’t just man up and embrace Lance properly, a real hug. Chest to chest, his arms wrapped around Lance’s tapered waist, Lance holding him close and safe and –

“I guess that makes sense.”

Lance’s smile turns hopeful, child-like. “Yeah?”

Keith grins wickedly. “No.”

Lance blows a raspberry, a puff of dragon’s breath leaving him in his heavy sigh. “Alright oh, mighty Mullet –”

“It’s not a mullet.”

“What’s something you’d like to do.”

“What?”

Lance makes an awkward gesture with his hands, as if trying to conjure Keith’s answer from thin air. “Ya know? Like go bungee jumping. Run a marathon?”

“I’ve already run a marathon.”

Lance startles, arms frozen mid-gesture. “Wait, really?”

Keith nods, takes a drag even though he doesn’t want to. “Yeah. It was a fundraiser.”

“Huh.”

Huh? The great blabber mouth Lance, the one who always has a line for everything, all he has to say is _huh?_ Really?

“What?”

“It’s just…” Lance tilts his head, studying Keith as if he’s trying to puzzle out the meaning of a masterpiece.

Keith’s temper is starting to flare. “What, Lance? Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, sorry!” Lance says, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. That’s really cool of you man.”

Keith chucks his half-finished cigarette into the snow, stomps out the cherry to get rid of the frustration. “Thanks, I guess.”

They taper off into silence, neither knowing how to pick the conversation back up until:

“So… bungee jumping?”

“Done that.”

Lance gasps in all his dramatic glory. “Without me?”

“It was before I met you,” Keith says, shaking his head with a fond smile of all things.

“Oh, then you’re forgiven,” Lance says. He waves his hand, brushing off Keith’s offence.

“How gracious of you.”

“So, what haven’t you done?” Lance continues.

Keith huffs. “You’re not letting this go, huh?”

“Nope!” Lance pops the ‘p’ and Keith shouldn’t find it as endearing as he does.

“Swimming with sharks?”

“Done.”

“Triathlon?”

“Yes.”

“Skydiving?”

“Twice.”

“UGH!” Lance clutches the side of his head, whipping off his beanie. He instantly regrets it, shivering as the cold hits his ears. He slaps his beanie back on with a pout. “Come on, one thing?”

Keith crosses his arms, tapping at his bicep as he thinks on it. There’s the stupid stuff. Go to space, backpack across Europe, stuff like that. There is one thing though…

“…iss.”

Lance whirls around, eyes wide. “What was that?”

Keith clears his throat, ducking his head as he repeats louder, “Have my first kiss.”

Keith instantly regrets saying it. There’s that silence again and its awkward and it’s his fault and Lance is probably going to laugh at him –

“That’s a good one.”

Keith blinks, raises his eyes slowly to meet Lance’s. “Yeah?”

Lance nods, gives Keith a small, encouraging smile. “Yeah man.”

Keith’s mouth suddenly feels dry, throat parched. It’s probably from the smoke, definitely not the way Lance is looking at him, all soft and sweet and –

“What about you?”

“I’ve already told you one,” Lance says, cocky smile returning.

“Yeah, but another one. More meaningful.”

Lance sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets and turning around on the spot, if anything just to keep himself busy. Lance has never been one for sitting still.

“Uh, well, I guess if we’re going deep then,” Lance swallows, stumbles a little, “fall in love with someone who doesn’t treat me like shit.”

Keith frowns, tries to catch Lance’s eyes which have suddenly found the snow-trodden ground far more interesting.

Now, Keith doesn’t really tune into gossip because it doesn’t involve him, and nine out of ten times, its false. But at college, it's inevitable – in their small friend group even more so. He knows about Lance’s relationships. Knows that Lance always seems to fall for the wrong people even though he is without a doubt the most considerate and loyal person Keith knows. It makes Keith angry and sad and powerless every time he sees Lance post-break-up. The bags under his eyes and the way he tries to put on a smile. How he doesn’t trash talk his ex or try and play himself off as the victim.

Lance is in love with the idea of love. And he fucking deserves that love. He deserves to find someone who will love him just as deeply, passionately, sweetly as he does them. He deserves sappy picnics and surprise bouquets of flowers. To be treated with the respect he duly deserves.

_Can you be that for him, though? Can you give him what he needs?_

“L-Lance?”

Lance looks up from underneath his eyelashes, ocean-blue eyes drawing him in like the tide, lashes long and brushing his freckled cheekbones and oh boy Keith is gone. He is so gone.

“Yeah?” Lance asks.

_Ask him. He deserves something, even if its small, even if –_

“Can I hug you?”

Lance tilts his head, mouth parted in confusion. “What?”

“C-can… Can I hug you?” Keith stutters out. He stutters but somehow, he’s managed to say it and that’s got to count for something, right?

“Uh… yeah. Of course, buddy.”

Keith nods, slowly, still trying to make sense of what all is going on in his head. “Okay.”

Lance cracks a smile. “Are you gonna come on over, or should I come to you?”

Oh. Right. Hugging. That involves – yeah. Okay.

Keith pushes himself off the wall, arms tightening across his chest, squeezing his ribcage for some sort of comfort because he’s doing this. He’s going to do this.

He stands toe to toe with Lance, not meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” Lance whispers. His breath fans across Keith’s neck, causing him to shiver down through his spine all the way to his toes. Why didn’t he wear a scarf?

“Hi,” Keith whispers back.

“So…”

“Uh.”

“This is kinda weird.”

Keith nods, lets out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Lance says. “It’s just unexpected.”

Keith finally tilts his chin up, matches Lance’s eyes and gasps because wow, they are close. Really, really close. Even in the dark, with the nearby window where partygoers thread shadows in-between the lamplight as their only source of light, Keith can still pick out each individual freckle on Lance’s nose. His eyes trail from one cheekbone to the other, taking in the sharp angles of Lance’s jaw, the upward slope of his nose, the bow of his lips.

“Pretty.”

“What?”

_Shit. Shit shit shit, he just said that out loud._

“You’re pretty.”

Lance blinks in surprise, eyelashes fluttering. “Oh.”

Keith winces, shaking his head as he takes a step back. “Sorry. Sorry. I asked for a hug and now I’m being weird and –”

Rough wool wraps around his wrist, holding him in place. Keith stares at the blue mitten, follows it slowly up the sleeve of a puffer jacket until he reaches ocean-blue eyes.

“You’re okay,” Lance says.

“Yeah?”

Lance nods. “Yeah.”

Slowly, Keith enters that safe space in front of Lance. Toe to toe, breath’s width apart.

“This is the part where we hug,” Lance says with a chuckle.

Keith’s hands ball into fists at his side before he allows them to relax, finds his arms lifting until they wrap hesitantly around Lance’s waist.

Lance takes that as the go-ahead to pull Keith in, wrap his arms around him and lean his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

It takes a moment but then Keith’s melting into the hug, feeling more sure of himself as he holds Lance tighter. His hands slip on the material of Lance’s jacket, and he wants to slide his hands underneath, feel the soft cotton of Lance’s hoodie. But he’s already using his scant bit of bravery up.

 _Next time,_ he thinks.

“Whatchya thinking, Mullet?” Lance says. His chin is sharp, digging into Keith’s shoulder a bit.

“You’re chin is kinda pointy.”

“Oh, sorry.” And then Lance his burying his face into the crook of Keith’s neck instead and he can feel the tip of Lance’s nose burning a cold spot below his jaw.

“Better?” Lance asks.

Keith nods, worried that if he tries to say anything he’ll just let out an embarrassing noise.

“This is nice,” Lance says. He begins to sway them a little, a hand carding through Keith’s hair unconsciously. “Why don’t we hug like this more often?”

“Because we’re both idiots who can’t read the signs?”

Lance pulls back, meeting Keith’s eyes with a curious glint. “What signs?”

In the background, Keith can hear their friends begin the countdown, can see the colours of the party swirling in his peripherals. But he can’t look away from Lance. The man who deserves the love he’s put out in the world again and again only to be denied. The man who puts others first always. The man that irritated the shit out of Keith until they became friends. Until Keith found himself falling. Falling falling falling.

“I – never mind.”

Lance gives him an encouraging squeeze. “What signs, Keith?”

“Um.”

10

Lance’s eyes dance across Keith’s face.

9

Lance is reading him, trying to understand.

8

Keith lets him. Tries to convey everything in this one look, prays Lance gets it.

7

Lance frowns but doesn’t step away, eyes still searching searching searching.

6

“Lance.”

5

Keith sees the moment it clicks.

4

“You –”

3

Keith nods. “Yeah.”

2

Lance’s eyes dip to Keith’s lips. Just for a second, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. It’s so quick, Keith thinks he must have made it up. There’s no way. Lance wouldn’t – he doesn’t –

1

Time slows down, speeds up, slows down again. Because one moment, Lance is standing there, Keith frozen to the spot as he starts to lean in. The next, their lips are brushing, barely touching. And the next they’re kissing.

Keith melts.

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but Lance does. He helps him, guides him with a gentle finger under his chin, tilts his head just so that their mouths slot together nicely and wow.

_Wow._

All too soon, Lance is pulling back, eyes fluttering open. Keith blinks, tries to remember if he’d closed his eyes or not.

“Was that okay?” It’s so soft, Keith thinks he might have misheard.

“Yeah. I – did you –”

“Did I?”

“Did you… Was I okay?”

Lance’s lips twitch, and then he’s grinning like an idiot. He cups Keith’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as he whispers. “You were perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Keith breathes.

And then they’re laughing, and Keith is leaning in again and Lance tastes like strawberry wine and it's soft and sweet and their noses bump but it’s okay. Because its Lance. Because it's them.

“You taste nice,” Keith says before he can think it through.

He can feel Lance’s smile against his lips. “And you taste like smoke.”

Keith’s hand comes up to his mouth, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Lance pulls at Keith’s wrist, sliding his hand down. “It’s okay. Maybe next time just pop a breath mint first.”

 _Next time._ There’s going to be a next time.

Keith slides his hands under Lance’s jacket, feels the soft cotton of his hoodie beneath his fingertips.

“Or maybe I’ll just quit.”

Lance hums, brushing his nose with Keith’s. “Really?”

“I’ve never really liked smoking, to be honest.”

Lance cocks a brow. “Then why do you do it?”

Keith shrugs. “Made me feel cool back in high school. Used to calm me at parties.”

“And now?”

Keith trails his hand up and down Lance’s spine, can feel him shiver and smiles because he knows it’s not from the cold.

“Well… strawberry kisses taste better than nicotine.”

Lance throws back his head with laughter. “Oh my god, you’re such a dork.”

Keith brushes a stray curl off Lance’s forehead, tucking it back beneath his beanie. “I’m your dork. If you want, that is.”

Lance bites his lip, a soft, hesitant smile inching across his face. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

Lance nods, placing a quick kiss to Keith’s lips. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year everyone xxx


End file.
